


reflections and puddles

by falconite



Category: Original Work
Genre: I Don't Even Know, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, roughly a translation of my original work in italian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-19
Updated: 2017-05-19
Packaged: 2018-11-02 15:52:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10947756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/falconite/pseuds/falconite
Summary: perhaps love was never my thing.





	reflections and puddles

**Author's Note:**

> So, if for some weird reason you end up reading this, please note that English is not my first language, therefore this is a rough translation of something I originally wrote in Italian. Other than that, I hope you enjoy it!

__  
One drop.  
Your heart used to beat with mine,  
a glorious chorus of love swelling up and exploding from our chests.  
When did our melody get so out of tune?  
Or maybe the fault was mine  
after all, I had always been so tone-deaf. 

_Two drops._  
Nothing but dust keeps me company in this lonely place,  
as you cross the road you promised you never would.  
Was it me who drove you away?  
Or maybe, it had always been in my head. 

_Three drops._  
The pain is unbearable,  
and the world has never felt bluer.  
Swimming was never my thing,  
and here I was struggling for breath and survival,  
desperate to keep myself afloat. 

_Four drops._  
Your cries fill up my ears, as I watch you,  
shattered and broken. Tainted.  
Your cries resonate.  
Or were they mine?  
After all, we had been one for so long,  
how was I supposed to know where you ended and where I begun? 

_Five drops._  
Have you ever wondered why we are attracted to the people we are?  
Is it chemistry, fate or simple coincidence?  
Or maybe a combination of both,  
a game of false hopes,  
hidden smiles and stolen glances.  
Nonetheless, ours was rigged from the start. 

_Six drops._  
Nothing is left to lose anymore.  
Swept beneath the waves,  
I stand helpless as I watch you smile,  
as radiant as the first time we met.  
They say you’re not supposed to stare directly into the sun,  
but I just couldn’t look away. 

_Seven drops._  
The radiant smile is no longer directed at me,  
and like a plant I wither away.  
She is pretty, smart and compliments you well, doesn’t she? 

_Eight drops._  
I used to enjoy rain.  
The cold touch of the droplets of water,  
washing away my worries and sorrows as we danced,  
careless, chilled and soaked to the bone.  
You would always laugh and say that I was weird.  
And maybe I was. 

_But rain no longer feels the same now that you’re gone.  
_


End file.
